Twisted Vision Of Troy
by Ardeth Saunders
Summary: This is a spoof of one of my favorite movies. It was all written in fun. It explores what might have happened if Hector hadn't actually died after fighting Achilles.


**Disclaimer: _Troy_ and its characters belong to someone else. I'm only borrowing them for a short time. NO infringement intended or implied.**

For those who have seen _Troy_, the characters below will be familiar. For those who haven't, please bear with me! This spoof of one of my favorite movies pokes fun at Eric Bana's 'Hector,' Orlando Bloom's 'Paris,' and Brad Pitt's 'Achilles.'

What would have resulted if Hector's death had not actually happened as we saw it? What if something else had happened instead? This scene takes place right after the 'big fight' between Hector and Achilles. All is not what it seems. This piece was written all in fun. I don't mean to offend any fans of Orlando Bloom, Brad Pitt, or Eric Bana. In fact, I salivated over 'Hector,' in this flick. I still do!

* * *

The mighty Achilles plunged his blade deeply into Hector's chest. The pain was immediate and immense. What was worse was that he had already suffered the indignity of having his lung punctured with a broken spear. Now this. Damn the Gods.

Hector fell to the sand with a dull thud. As his life ebbed away, he heard the faraway moans and cries of his family just above him within the gates of the protected city. He was not aware when a vindicated Achilles wrapped rope around his feet or when he was dragged away behind the great warrior's chariot.

After a bumpy, and relatively sandy, ride to the Greek camp, Achilles dragged Hector's body around behind his tent. From there, he untied the rope and freed Hector's body.

Surprisingly, Hector sat up swiftly and began to wipe the muck out of his eyes. Thank the Gods he had been wearing eye protection that hadn't yet been invented in the real world. But since this was a movie, it worked quite well. "By all the Gods, Achilles, that ride was rough. I have sand in my eyes."

Achilles afforded Hector a gruff 'harumph.' "Yes, I know, but what choice did I have? How would our plan have worked if you had gotten up and rode beside me in my chariot?" The 'ride' across the sand must have warped Hector's sensibilities. Alas.

There was fake blood and sand all over him. He mused that even though fake blood hadn't been invented yet, either, it certainly was effective. He had a nice macabre thing happening here. He stood so he could brush off the sand and gore from his armor. For good measure, he rubbed at his eyes again. "The only two unaware are Paris and Helen. Right?"

Achilles sighed. Did Hector bump his head? _He_ was the blond for Ares' sake, but suddenly Hector had grown a few strands in his hair. "Yes, of course," Achilles said. "What do you think I am? A fool? Your entire family has been made aware. Just not the principals. When shall we begin?"

Hector blinked his eyes. He had no earthly idea why Achilles was so irritated. For Apollo's sake, he had only asked a simple question. "As soon as possible," he replied. "I told Paris numerous times to send her back. I even told my father, but he has always been soft on Paris."

"One would have to be," Achilles said. "See how he acts? Might I have to go back to the scene on the DVD where you mentioned how many women he bedded?"

"No. It won't be necessary. I love my brother, but he is very weak…and oddly enough, chinless."

**Back at the palace…**

Helen and Paris were lying in bed, languishing in their lust…oblivious to the pain they had caused their families. What did they care? Menelaus was dead. Paris had escaped severe injury through Hector's kindness. But golly, it was certainly a shame that he had died. Achilles was a bad man. A bad, bad man. He would definitely call upon one of the Trojan soldiers to stand by while he tried to defeat Achilles. After all, he needed another leg to grab, another man to cower under.

Suddenly, an idea struck him. "Helen," Paris whispered urgently. "Let us go down to the stables, get two horses, and ride east."

"Paris," Helen scolded. "We have already discussed this. My love, you are a young man. Foolish. But young."

"Oh yes," Paris said forgetfully. "We have discussed that, haven't we? What shall we talk about now? We can't have much empty space in a movie. We must keep the audience's attention."

Helen sighed. "Alas, that is true. I am all out of topics. Tell me again where you found the pearls for my necklace."

Good golly. That was some nice story he had told. He opened his mouth to begin telling it again, when they were suddenly disturbed by two figures entering into the room. Helen sat straight up. Paris cowered under the covers. How did the Greeks find their way over the walls? What was this? He almost called out to Hector, but remembered he was dead. Oh. Bummer.

"Get up, you fool," Helen hissed.

"Why didn't we take the horses and ride east," Paris whispered in fright. "I wanted to ride east, but you wouldn't hear of it."  
"Shut up," Helen cried. "You're the Prince of Troy. Act like a man."

When the two men in cloaks revealed their faces, both Helen and Paris gasped in surprise. Hector and Achilles? How could this be? They were sworn enemies. Hector had killed Achilles' cousin. Achilles had killed Hector. They were enemies, drat it. ENEMIES! What was happening to the world around them?

"Hector," Paris sputtered. "I thought…I thought you were dead."

He tried to get out of bed to greet his brother, perhaps to cower at his feet again, but Hector stepped back and frowned disapprovingly down at his younger sibling. "Ahhh," Hector sighed. "Of course you would think that. I am not, twit. I told you to send her back to Sparta. But you didn't listen, little brother. Now, it's time to pay for your misdeeds against Troy, me, and the audience for simply being in this movie."

"But Hector," Paris sputtered again.

"Oh shut up, you sack of wine," Achilles commanded. He turned to glance at Hector. "You get the girl. I'll take care of the other."

Hector took a step forward, but stopped in his tracks. Looking back at Achilles, he asked, "The blonde is the girl, right?"

Achilles rolled his eyes. "We do not have all night. I don't want to kill another dozen of your warriors, Hector!"

Greeks. They simply couldn't take a joke. Hector moved quickly, grabbing Helen, and tossing her body over his shoulder. She kicked and screamed, but Hector didn't mind. He secured his grasp on her body and began to move forward.

"Wait," Helen cried.

"For what," Hector asked gruffly.

"My hairpiece," she bawled. "I must get my hairpiece. I can't leave the palace without it."

"Oh shut up," Hector called.

It wasn't easy going, but the group finally made it back to the Greeks' camp. Hector set Helen on her feet. She tried to run away, but Breseis came dashing out of Achilles' tent and took hold of Helen's hair. Her face puckered in disgust at the massive hairpiece that now lay in her hands. Helen tried again to run away, but Breseis was on her.

Breseis grabbed Helen's arm, turned her around to face everyone, and then she smacked the holy Athena out of her. "Be still, Princess of Troy," Breseis said. "You nearly brought down my city, ruined my cousin, and the hot nookie I was getting from Achilles! Now you shall serve the Greek army."

"What do you mean," Helen asked haughtily. With Breseis' attention drawn away from her hairpiece, she snatched it from her hands and swiftly placed it back onto her head. "I am not a virgin priestess. They have no interest in me." She straightened the hairpiece even more haughtily than ever before. "Besides, after sleeping with Menelaus and Paris, I need a good man." She gazed at Paris and smiled. "Sorry, my love. Only acting, you know?"

Cowering, Paris nodded and blew her a kiss.

Breseis sighed tiredly. Her cousin and his woman were idiots. "There are fifty thousand Greek soldiers on the beach of Troy. Their undergarments are quite disgusting. I've seen them! Follow me, wench, you have a lot of work to do."

The men stood by amused as Breseis dragged Helen off toward the center of camp. She screamed and protested, but Breseis was persistent, slapping her whenever she got out of line. After the amusement died down, Hector and Achilles turned toward Paris. Oddly, Paris was dressed in Trojan armor. As if he would fight anything. PAHLEASE!

Achilles nodded toward Hector. "Hold him. You do not want to watch this. It won't be pretty."

Hector nodded respectfully and took hold of his brother from behind. "I promise this won't hurt, brother."

"Oh please," Paris moaned. "I swear I'll be a good boy. I swear I'll take two horses and ride east. I swear I won't bed merchant's wives or temple maids ever again. I swear…"

Achilles groaned and tweaked Paris' nose. "For the love of all that is holy, _shut up_. I already have a massive headache and I have hundreds of soldiers to slaughter tomorrow! Let's do this so I can go to bed!"

Hector held tightly as Achilles took over the gruesome task of stripping Paris down to nothing. He thought it was funny when he realized Paris didn't have a chin, but when he saw his tiny pee pee, he thought he might laugh himself into a brain embolism. Without glancing at Hector, he ripped Paris away from his brother. Pitifully, Paris hid the family jewels as Achilles dragged him toward the center of camp. Hector gathered Paris' armor and followed suit behind.

"Oh, Helen," Paris gasped.

In the center of thousands of Greek warriors, Helen was down on her knees before a massive caldron. Her hairpiece was askew. She cried as she scrubbed the foulest undergarments she had ever seen. What was the world coming to? She was a queen. Or _had_ been anyway. Now, she was a Trojan princess. Oh, alas, alas. What would she do? Oh the horror.

The men began to laugh as Hector took the armor to a pole waiting nearby. With a few quick movements, Hector strung up the armor and sent it to the top of the pole where it flapped limply in the wind.

Achilles shoved Paris into the center of the men, near his beloved Helen. Suddenly, Paris sneezed. He moved his hands from his jewels to catch it. And that's when the men saw. What a tiny pee pee! They rolled in laughter. Poor Paris didn't know what to do.

Glancing at Helen, he said wistfully, "I told you we should have gone down to the stables, got two horses, and rode east!"

**_FINIS..._**


End file.
